Invisible Demons
by Meriah
Summary: Anorexia nervosa is a serious disease which has tortured the lives of millions of people, as well as their loved ones. Violet is no exception in her struggle...


I remember fixing my eyes on the television screen, astonished by the beautiful gymnasts, figure skaters and ballerinas. Constantly, as I watched these programs, my voice would whisper, "I want to be like them. I WILL be like them." Yet, deep down, my glamorous wishes were futile.  
  
At age six, after viewing an ice-skating championship, an aunt noticed my interest in this sport, although knew not the reason. She suggested that I begin swimming in our giant pool at Cerulean Gym, and start ice-skating lessons at the Cerulean Center for the Artistic Sports. This I did, and I soon found myself the swiftest skater at the center. I also began ballet and gymnastics.  
  
From the public perspective, ballet, figure skating and gymnastics appear as enchanting: The perfect hair, the make-up, the vivid costumes, the medals, the pride, the title, the fame. However, within these are several dark events. No one witnesses the fractured bones one receives by swinging on unsteady bars, or the crashing against the ice, or the harsh judgments of the teachers while dancing. Nevertheless, I continued to take part in this troika of sports.  
  
By age twelve, my looks were ravishing. I found myself being known as a 'Sensational Sister,' when prodigious multitudes would watch me do water ballet. The overwhelming, amazing feeling of being adored by thousands of people; the sound of applause flooding the building; the tears of joy streaming down my cheeks. They loved ME, and MY talents. ME.  
  
My eyes were obsessed with watching the astonishing women on the television. And then I realized that I wasn't like them. I didn't have their hair. I didn't have their make-up. I didn't have their costumes. I didn't have their medals. I didn't have their pride. I didn't have their title. I didn't have their fame. But what tore me the most was themselves: I lacked their bodies. As I gazed down at my own, translucent tears cascaded. I was different from them.  
  
I quit all the activities, as well as performing water ballet with Daisy and Lily. I saw no future, except the strive to be perfect. When Misty's birthday came, and my other sisters decided to take her out to dinner to celebrate the occasion, I stayed home. When Misty asked why, I mumbled, "I don't feel well. I think I have a cold." In truth, I was absent from their celebration for one simple reason. The lethal four-letter word: Food. As time transpired, my concern with skipping food became an obsession, and then my life. I'd make sure to sleep all day, so I could pass up all meals without my sisters questioning.  
  
One Sunday morning, Lily came into my room, waking me. She asked, "I'm going for a walk. Wanna come?" I shook my head. "No. But thanks for the offer. I'm just tired as usual," I replied. But that was not the true reason. I was too embarrassed to be in public. I thought, 'Who'd want to see a fat girl?! I'd be ridiculed!'  
  
Eventually, sleeping was not by my own will. It was a task. I became strained of energy. Even talking was a struggle. And as I laid there in bed, staring at the ceiling, pressing down on my body, I still felt heavy. I even decided it was "illegal" for my own family to see me. Whenever they'd knock on the door, my voice would shriek with the last of my energy, "Go away! Leave me alone!" They followed this at first, but once it became common to them, Daisy could no longer allow it. She barged in. All I remember clearly was the startled expression etched across her face. As for the rest, the room became a huge swirl, then everything turned black.  
  
I opened my eyes to a white room, then learned that I was now inside a general hospital. An electrocardiograph was performed, and it was soon discovered that my blood pressure was abnormal. A psychotherapist was requested to come in. After about an hour of constant questions, I broke down before him and my sisters. I rapidly began telling them about avoiding meals, feeling fatigue, avoiding society, oversleeping, everything that tortured me. Lily gazed at me with watery eyes, and wrapped her arms around me, whimpering, "You are my sis, Violet. Don't do this to me!"  
  
I was 5'7". I weighed 62 pounds.  
  
For the next several months, my psychotherapist forced me to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner. I had to eat EVERYTHING on my plate. If I was to miss even a crumb, I'd have to lick it down. As I did this between tears, screams, physical action and curses, I vowed that I DESPISED him for making me go through this. Eating was harder than any event or trauma I had experienced. Eating was hell itself. When I looked in the mirror, delusions told me I was fatter than I truly was: My stomach bulged, my cheeks were chubby, my butt was huge, my hips were rounded, my waist was circular. My dark, evil delusions made me believe I was these things. It made me see myself as these things.  
  
But that was two years ago. I am now seventeen years old, once again part of the Sensational Sisters. I'm still 5'7", but have replaced 62 pounds with 114 pounds instead. I'm still on the road to gaining a healthy weight, but the process is slow. I don't want to rush myself; I want to earn it. I'm conquering the disease that tyrannized my mind. I'm proving that I'm the one in control. No one can take that away from me again, not even those degrading delusions.  
  
Battling with anorexia has made me stronger, in my soul...  
  
...And it is the soul that is beautiful. 


End file.
